


take in another breath (get closer)

by Melomaniac



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: (and so is Shinichi), (of sorts), British English, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Flirty Kaito, Flustered Shinichi, Happy Ending, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, No Angst, No Smut, Post-Conan Kudou Shinichi, Sass, Tags Are Hard, Trains, Translation Available, accepting faults, bottle episode, compulsive detective kudou shinichi, drink every time i mention their eyes, he's not really, i think i managed sass, i think??, it's a reference, kaishin - Freeform, lady luck appreciation, no real plot, of sorts, pretty shinichi, read for the train, sherlock holmes themed heist, shinkai, the detective's heart, the tunnel is a metaphor, to this fic, uh i think that's it, unnecessary self-sacrifice, you'll be drunk really fast, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melomaniac/pseuds/Melomaniac
Summary: He paused on the threshold of the door between the pseudo-corridor and the seating area, and faintly corrected himself. Not as alone as he thought.Not as alone at all.Sat by himself, with his chin resting on his hand, an arm loosely propped on the small table, an explosion of paper and assorted important looking documents in front of him, flask of (presumably) coffee held to his lips, was Kudou Shinichi, whose eyes had met Kaito’s when he walked into the carriage, had widened, and hadn’t looked away since.In which there is a late night (or an early morning), a train, copious amounts of flirting, a phone, a name, and a stolen heart.This fic was translated into Russian by the incrediblekiiru_miand can be foundhere





	take in another breath (get closer)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song Get Closer by Life in Film. I like the song, and I spent way too long agonising on a name for this shitshow so this is what we've ended up with. I'm relatively happy with it.
> 
> I was inspired to write this after an awful journey home on the train, where some guy fell down the escalator, and the carriage was full of drunk football fans and oh god just thinking back on it makes me want to throw up. Anyway, it gave me the idea to write something based on a train journey, and I wanted to contribute something to all the lovely people who ship KaiShin (or ShinKai, but come on)!
> 
> There's a lot of faults in this, but if you can stand my endless droning about their eyes, and an abrupt ending, it's worth reading this just for the image of Kaito and Shinichi flirting relentlessly on a train at, like, 2:15 in the morning. Either way, I hope you enjoy this. Feel free to leave a comment, whether it's criticism, or suggestions for improving my writing in the future, or mindless squeeing! I'll even take all three.

Kaito looked at the train times on the neon lit board hung on the wall in front of him. It was 1:50am but luckily the trains were still running – otherwise he had no idea how he was supposed to get home.

After a successful yet horrifically boring heist somewhere in Yokohama (he hadn’t really paid much attention to the where, focussing more on the who), Kaito had been prepared to stand on top of the nearest tall building and jump off, using his glider to fly _over_ the running trains to his home in Ekoda. What he hadn’t been prepared for, however, was a sudden change in wind speed and direction. A _very_ sudden change in wind speed and direction. As much as Lady Luck loved him – and he her - sometimes she was a real bitch.

So he decided instead to go home by train for once. Actually, he would have called Jii-chan for a lift if it wasn’t for the fact that he was on a date with some woman – Umeno, something? He’d forgotten her name already – and Kaito didn’t want to ruin that for his surrogate Grandfather. Jii-chan helped him with his heists so much that he deserved a break from running around after his ‘bocchama.’ Even if this kindness meant that Kaito would have to suffer transport designed for, he shuddered, _normal people who didn’t fly hang-gliders on a regular basis_.

Anyway, that didn’t matter. What mattered was finding a train that passed through Ekoda. A few minutes later, Kaito found a train leaving from platform 21b (ha) which passed through a few places before Ekoda, where the train stopped for good for the night. It was the last train of the evening for him. He had two minutes to get to the platform before it left, leaving him stranded in Yokohama on a school night. Well shit.

Kaito winced before running down the corridor which he presumed led to the platforms, casually vaulting over a harried old lady on the way. He threw a charming – and distinctly KID – smile over his shoulder as an apology, mentally rolling his eyes when both the old lady and her granddaughter swooned.

If anyone had been looking in his direction rather than impatiently at their watches, they would have seen a frankly impressive, if not terrifying, demonstration of speed and agility. One that would have tipped off a smarter person of his second identity. Alas, the observational skills of businessmen waiting for trains at nearly two in the morning – at night? – did not equal those of tiny detectives.

Though that was to be expected. After all, tiny detectives were the best.

Speaking of tantei-kun, Kaito thought as he jumped down the stairs of the escalator like an acrobat, where had he been? Kaito had planned a heist in Yokohama specifically for him. He could have at least had the good grace to show up! After all the effort Kaito had gone to in order to create his most complex heist note yet referencing at least five Sherlock Holmes stories, which announced his stealing of a gem literally named “The Detective’s Heart” – come on, if he wasn’t obvious with his intentions, what was he? – tantei-kun didn’t even show. He wasn’t even credited for solving the heist note. (That award had gone to, urgh, Hakuba but Kaito didn’t want to think about that).

It was as if he had completely disappeared. Just to annoy him. Honestly, there was no other explanation for why he hadn’t shown up to a _Sherlock Holmes_ themed KID heist. Kaito wasn’t being immodest, but he had expected the combination of two of tiny tantei’s _favourite_ things to have turned him into a practically salivating bundle of joy! The fact that he hadn’t shown up wasn’t just disappointing – nay, it was an insult to Kaito’s poor heart.

Kaito pondered the wounded state of said poor heart from where he stood, leaning against the nearest clean(ish) wall, waiting for the train, which, despite his rush, hadn’t even arrived on time. He absently checked the time on his watch before closing his eyes briefly. God, he was tired. Juggling school with homework with spending time with Aoko with planning and executing heists took its toll, no matter how much Kaito tried to ignore it. In the end though, he always decided that it was worth it, to have everything he wanted no matter the cost. To have friends, and grades, and his quest to hunt down Pandora.

He sighed quietly and, halfway through it, heard the distinct screech of the train pulling up to a stop in front of him.

“I didn’t even notice it coming into the station,” he muttered to himself, thinking about how he really needed to get home quickly and get to bed before he did something really stupid, like pass out, or tell everyone on the train how _dull_ his heist was.

The train doors made a soft hissing sound as they opened, and Kaito ambled towards the nearest, which happened to be at the very back of the train, hopping into the end carriage with easy grace. He hadn’t been the only person on the platform – no, there had been a couple of drunk looking teens giggling loudly as they held each other up, and a miserable man in an expensive suit – but the others had gotten on near the front, leaving Kaito alone as he stepped further into the final carriage.

He paused on the threshold of the door between the pseudo-corridor and the seating area, and faintly corrected himself. Not as alone as he thought. _Not as alone at all._

Sat by himself, with his chin resting on his hand, an arm loosely propped on the small table, an explosion of paper and assorted important looking documents in front of him, flask of (presumably) coffee held to his lips, was Kudou Shinichi, whose eyes had met Kaito’s when he walked into the carriage, had widened, and hadn’t looked away since.

There was silence. Deep silence made louder by the fact that they were the only two in the whole carriage, of the whole second half of the train. Kaito’s mind raced viciously with questions, the main one of course being _how long had Kudou Shinichi been back and why hadn’t he been informed?_

More importantly, the detective still hadn’t looked away – rather, his eyes had narrowed slightly, and he looked thoughtful – and Kaito was painfully aware of every tiny clue on his person that he imagined only Kudou could see which would point to one great, whopping conclusion: that Kaito was KID. Of course, he wouldn’t have any evidence for his accusation, no, Kaito was too thorough for that, but still – being the focus of that gaze was kind of horrifying, even if he had already been exposed, numerous times, to the tinier version of it.

Even more importantly, Kaito realised, Kudou wasn’t a small child anymore, which was disarming, and even more disarming was the fact that big tantei-kun was _pretty_ in person. Really pretty.

His gaze, though piercing, was made up of two blazingly blue eyes, and his skin was smoother than it had any right to be. His suit jacket was hung over the back of his chair, and his sleeves were rolled up carelessly to his elbows, painting a gorgeously dishevelled picture that made Kaito want to cry. He had known that grown up tantei-kun was attractive from photos he had found in research prompted by the clock tower heist, but knowing wasn’t the same as _knowing_ , and those photos really hadn’t done him justice.

Kudou Shinichi was lounging casually in a train carriage at two o’clock in the morning, papers splayed over the table, orange light from the ceiling creating a halo of gold around his perfectly groomed hair, and he looked like a work of goddamn renaissance art. Kaito had a brief and impulsive desire to steal him.

Then, as Kudou turned reluctantly back to his work with a final stare so loaded with meaning Kaito nearly fell over, he quickly rearranged his entire view of the world and decided, screw it, he was _definitely_ going to steal Kudou Shinichi. And stop calling him by his entire name. That was getting tiring.

So with a new goal in mind, he committed fully to walking into the carriage, and sat down directly opposite the detective. The train promptly began to move.

Kaito saw Kudou tense slightly, and waited for him to demand he change seats, but he relaxed after a few seconds, without even glancing up. Kaito frowned. That wasn’t nearly enough of a reaction. He tilted his head to the side as the train began to move faster, and wondered what he could say to grab Kudou’s attention in such a way that didn’t result in him forgoing their tentatively formed truce (because a stare like _that_ could only mean a truce had been formed), and an arrest.

Eventually, he decided to just stare at the detective until he acknowledged Kaito. Which, he thought, was taking far too long.

Kudou didn’t even seem to be doing any real work anyway; sure, he held a pen in his right hand, and was reading over the paper in front of him, but he wasn’t making notes, and a closer look at his eyes revealed them to be staring blankly. He seemed distracted. Distracted (a haughty part of Kaito’s brain thought) by _him_.

_Oh this could be fun._

“Am I distracting you?”

Kudou stayed silent, but he finally looked up. He seemed to be searching for something briefly in Kaito’s face. Presumably, he found it, because he suddenly sighed a little and slumped backwards in his seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, absently pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kaito blinked, and tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”

“What. The hell. Is wrong. With you?”

“Uh, many things?”

Kudou breathed out a louder sigh, somehow falling further back into his seat. “Seriously. You could have walked out of here and sat in any other carriage. Or at least not sat directly opposite me. And of course you didn’t, because you love making things hard for me!”

“How have I made anything, ah, _hard_ for you?” Kaito grinned, relishing in the double entendre. Kudou clearly noticed it, a light blush blooming across the top of his cheeks and a disapproving frown on his lips.

“ _We_ don’t know each other,” he reasoned with a vaguely superior tone, as if it explained everything, his eyes giving away the deliberate lie.

“No, _we_ don’t,” Kaito agreed obediently.

“And now we do.”

“Exactly. Now we _do_.”

Kudou shifted forward, an unconscious movement which Kaito copied. “You don’t see the problem with that.”

“Not at all,” Kaito smiled beatifically, “Look, we meet on a train when I sit opposite you, notice your detective work, rant about my hatred of _critics_ until you argue back, talk the whole journey on nothing and everything until we become the best of friends. There’s nothing suspicious about that at all. We’ve accidentally just orchestrated a completely truthful, easy to remember meet-cute to tell at our wedding that doesn’t involve anything illegal! How lucky is that!”

Kudou frowned. “What about if people ask why you were on a train so late at night leaving Yokohama?” he blinked suddenly, “And what was that about a wedding?”

“Well,” Kaito shifted in his seat thoughtfully, “Obviously we tell them I went to the KID heist, but I can’t imagine anyone but Hakuba digging that deep. And our wedding comes after we fall in love – and raise four orphan kittens from birth, of course.”

Kudou looked as if he was about to cry. It was a surprisingly good look on him; his eyes went distressingly wide, and his mouth parted invitingly. “Surely the KID heist part of this story is a little suspicious,” he stated.

“Why would it be?”

Kudou pursed his lips. “Because you’re KID.”

“Sure, and?”

Once again, Kudou leant backwards. “You’re admitting to it so casually. Really?” he asked, deadpan.

Kaito leant forward further, trying to entice Kudou back into his personal bubble with his elegantly curved shoulders and fluttering black eyelashes. “Why wouldn’t I? I trust you, tantei-kun.”

It was this nickname on _Kaito’s_ lips, instead of KID’s, that seemed to break Kudou into _Shinichi_. His breath caught, and he felt himself leaning forward ever so slightly, gaze fixed on Kaito’s gently amused eyes. The space between them felt inconsequential, like something designed to be closed. Kaito, somehow, felt inevitable.

“And,” Kaito whispered, Shinichi leaning closer, almost certain that he was about to – “how can we go on that date KID was planning to ask you on if you don’t know who he is?” – ruin it, of course. Shinichi fell forward a final few inches, downwards, groaning into his hands, which covered his face like a mask. His posture was loose for the first time since the train pulled off.

Kaito blinked. “What did I say?” he pouted, crossing his arms.

Shinichi sat up, his eyes seeking out Kaito’s once again. “This is still difficult for me, you realise.”

“Why does it have to be?”

“I’m a compulsive detective. You’ve got a criminal record so detailed I can _smell_ it from here.”

“We all have our faults. One should learn to accept them and move on. Be gracious.”

“Your faults are incredibly illegal.”

“I was talking about me accepting yours.”

Shinichi gracefully raised his right eyebrow. “Mine?”

“Yes,” Kaito sighed, “The faults I am willing to learn to love in order to pursue this beautiful friendship.”

Shinichi bit his lip ponderously, grimacing as if dreading asking but unable not to. “And what are my faults, exactly?”

“For one, you said it yourself: you’re a compulsive detective,” Kaito began. His hands came together in a crude mimicry of that famous Holmesian deduction stance. “Meaning that you can’t help but investigate every murder that falls onto your lap – because god knows you won’t let a mystery slip through your fingers – and you can’t help but _detect_ everything about everyone involved. Including me.”

“And that’s why this can’t work,” Shinichi injected.

Kaito’s lips quirked. “Why? Because you know that I’m KID and think that you’ll do something about it? You don’t want to have that sort of power over my life, over whether I’m incarcerated or free?”

Shinichi nodded slowly. After a brief pause, Kaito snorted, falling into laughter so lively he shook the table separating them.

“Don’t laugh,” Shinichi protested, “I’m perfectly validated in my reservations. I’ve known what it’s like for a person to have that much power over someone. It’s… it’s virtually blackmail.”

Kaito’s laughter trailed off with a roll of his eyes. “Tantei-kun, I _know_ you. You’re too noble to use any information against me, unless it was for the greater good – in which case I wouldn’t put up much of a fight.” Shinichi’s mouth opened, as if he were about to object. “No, don’t disagree with me. I’m right. It’s another one of your faults actually. You’re noble to the point of self-sacrificing.”

Shinichi frowned before speaking, “I could still turn you in. I could shoot you with my wristwatch and call the police at the next stop while you’re unconscious. That would be the _noble_ thing to do. What’s stopping me?”

“You’re stopping you.”

Shinichi seemed hesitant to argue this time, calculating eyes almost giving in even as his mouth spewed out denials. “How am I stopping myself from turning you in?”

“Well,” Kaito argued, “you’re not stopping yourself exactly, but you wouldn’t do it. You may be a critic, but you admire my ‘no-one gets hurt’ rule where you perhaps don’t admire my skill as a magician.”

“As a thief.”

“As a _magician_ who brings joy to the people.”

“You don’t bring joy to Nakamori’s task force.”

“I bring purpose to Nakamori’s task force. It’s almost the same thing.”

“You waste police time and resources.”

“Everything wastes time and resources. At least what I do is a good waste.”

Shinichi rubbed at his forehead thoughtfully, “No waste is good.”

Kaito smiled a truly shark-like smile. “Mine is,” he said simply. “Admit it. You love my heists. It’s the only time you can exercise that gigantic brain of yours and solve a mystery where nobody dies, where nobody gets hurt.”

Shinichi leant forward on the table, closer to Kaito than they had been so far. “Suppose you’re right,” he murmured, eyes focused on the eyes of the man opposite him, who leant forward just as close, with just as much focus, “Suppose I have come to the decision to leave you be, to not turn you in – where do we go from here? Clearly you want us to… communicate.”

“Oh _please_ tantei-kun,” Kaito purred, “Do you have to phrase it so clinically?”

“Fine. You want us to be friends.”

“Friends,” a pause, “And whatever that leads to.”

“You seem awfully sure I want to be ‘friends and whatever that leads to’ with you.”

Kaito licked his lips. “I’m not sure. But I know what _I_ want, and I’m persistent in getting it.”

“And you want me.”

“I want you,” he agreed. “I decided I was going to steal you the second I walked into this carriage, actually.”

“Oh really?” Shinichi hummed, inching closer, arms crossed on the table beneath him. He was close enough (and _distracted_ enough, Kaito noted with internal glee) for Kaito to perform a little bit of pick-pocketing.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and carefully mimicking Shinichi’s slack posture. Their breath seemed loud in the relative silence of the train, which caused their otherwise motionless bodies to sway lightly in tandem. Kaito felt that he could see each thought that passed in the detective’s mind through those expressive eyes. He felt he could hear the beating of his heart; fast and heavy, a mirror to his own.

The train suddenly entered a tunnel. The carriage became cloaked in a blanket of pure black, the only light that of the artificial orange above, the moon’s calming white absent. Shinichi’s pale cheekbones lost their ethereal glow and took on an earthlier quality. Kaito thought distantly on the liminality of the scene; two foes, two friends, riding alone on a train through a tunnel in the early hours of the morning, or the late hours of the evening – both, neither, everything all at once.

“So,” Shinichi broke the silence, though just barely, aiming for dry but coming out breathy, “How are you going to steal me?”

For a moment, Shinichi believed, truly believed, that Kaito was never going to tear away that tight gaze of his; blazing with the flame that burned deep in his eyes, intent and sharp and strong. “Oh my dear tantei-kun,” Kaito whispered back, his smooth voice lilting, “how indeed.”

Shinichi let out a stuttered breath. His hands twitched a little, his arms shifting in and out of their crossed position in an unexpected moment of restlessness. For a second after, there was complete silence, complete stillness from the pair as they stared at, what they felt, was the other’s intentions reflected in their eyes.

Kaito, thoroughly pleased with the direction the journey had taken, took the opportunity to return what he had pickpocketed, but, distracted by the (so _pretty he could barely think_ ) pretty face in front of him, accidentally brushed the inside of Shinichi’s trouser pocket with his wrist. He froze. Shinichi’s eyes narrowed. They came out of the tunnel.

“Did you just steal my phone?”

“How else would I give you my number?” Kaito grinned shamelessly, “And I stole that ages ago; I was just returning it.”

Shinichi shook his head with a light chuckle. “I feel like I need to ask…” he sat back, breaking the spell Kaito had weaved seamlessly, “What else did you steal tonight?”

Kaito gasped dramatically as he fell backwards in his seat, fingers feebly grasping at his chest. “You don’t know?” he cried. “Well, _that’s_ because you didn’t come to my heist! I planned it just for you, I was expecting you.”

Shinichi spoke dryly, “You weren’t expecting _me_. You expected Conan. _I’ve_ only been to one of your heists.”

Kaito pouted. “I don’t care; you should have been there. Imagine how my poor tender heart felt when I looked out onto the crowd and didn’t see you.”

“I’m sure you recovered.”

“I did not recover at all, thank you very much,” Kaito sniffed importantly, “I’m still wounded from your slight.”

The severe line of Shinichi’s mouth eased up a little at this, quirked in a facsimile of amusement.

“I had to research Sherlock Holmes for this heist, tantei-kun, _Sherlock Holmes_! A –” Kaito paused, face screwed up in mock disgust, “A detective.”

“I’m a detective, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yes, but you’re my _favourite_ detective. A detective who missed a heist whose note included references to _his_ favourite detective!”

Shinichi seemed to pause. “It did?”

“Yes,” Kaito frowned, catching on suddenly. “Did you not see the note?”

Shinichi averted his eyes. He started shuffling his papers around on the table absently. “No. No-one told me about it either. I only found out this morning when I checked the news on the way to Yokohama.” Kaito opened his mouth at this, about to question _why_ Shinichi was going to Yokohama if not to attend his heist, but was cut off before he could speak. “Before you say anything, I was called in by a friend of Megure’s who requested my help on a case as a favour.”

“And the case was in Yokohama,” Kaito stated.

Shinichi glared witheringly, “Obviously. Anyway, I saw that you were holding a heist today – yesterday, I mean – and planned to go to it after I solved the case.” He looked away again. “I knew it would seem a little odd, attending a KID heist when I’d never shown interest before, but…” he seemed to come to a decision, and looked up abruptly, staring directly into Kaito’s eyes, “But I didn’t really care. I wanted to come, wherever it was, whatever you were stealing.”

The thief felt something hard in his heart soften, tongue thick and throat tight. “So why didn’t you come.”

Shinichi bit at his bottom lip distractedly, and Kaito felt the sudden urge to replace those teeth with his own. “The case took longer to solve than I had anticipated,” he replied.

“My, my, the Great Detective of the East – taking longer than expected to solve a simple case?” Kaito teased, smile sharp.

“It wasn’t a simple case!” Shinichi argued hotly, “There were six suspects, all with motives, only one with an alibi – and it turned out to be a false one – and a dead body showing signs of hypothermia and strangulation, neither of which was the cause of death when we received the autopsy report!” Kaito snickered. “Don’t laugh! It’s a miracle I solved it in time to catch the last train back to Beika!”

“Well when you put it like that it really is,” Kaito agreed, fondly nodding his head. He hadn’t meant to give in so easily, intent on playfully poking and prodding Shinichi for as long as he could, drawing out the conversation until he was satisfied. Somehow, though, watching the detective attempt to smother a reluctant smile, shoulders raising as if to hide his face between them, a light flush of pink on his cheeks hinting at _oh so much_ – it was worth the loss of a few more moments of Shinichi’s impassioned rambling.

“What did you steal anyway? The news didn’t say.”

Kaito grinned wickedly. “Oh, you know,” he waved his arm about daintily, smile quickly shifting to an attempt at innocence, and a wave of sudden dread came upon Shinichi. “Just a simple red garnet.”

Shinichi groaned, “This is you we’re talking about. It can’t be that simple. What aren’t you telling me?”

Kaito seemed to ponder this, tapping his index finger on his lips repeatedly, avoiding Shinichi’s glare with unnecessary dramatics. “Why should I tell you? You, after all, didn’t care enough about what I stole to skip the case and come to my all-important heist, did you?” His voice was saccharine and teasing in all the wrong places.

Shinichi leaned forward, forcefully drawn into the drama against his own will. He felt, suddenly, that the man in front of him was a whirlwind, intense and captivating, come to wreak havoc on his life. They had barely been sat together for five minutes before he couldn’t take his eyes away from him. The man had come, and made his life difficult – but then, he had never been one for an easy life. Difficult was just another word for _interesting_ after all. Why watch a storm from afar when you can run into it and be a part of the maelstrom?

“It wasn’t my fault that I missed your heist. Surely my desire to come makes up for me missing it?” he reasoned, instead of voicing the disorientating thoughts in his mind.

Kaito leaned forward, purposeful gaze seeming to say ‘this is a dance, and I’m leading’, subtly acknowledging their back and forth across the table between them towards and away from the other. “Then, Great Detective, I’ll tell you.” He crooked a long finger, daring Shinichi to come closer, watching gleefully (heart beating faster) as he answered the call, body poised, attention focused solely on him.

When the distance between them could be closed by even the slightest jostling of the train, when Kaito could hear Shinichi’s breath loud and alive in his ear, when Shinichi could pick out flecks of blue and brown in the distracting indigo of the thief’s eyes, Kaito spoke: “Tonight I stole a gem with a _very_ special name.” He drew out the syllables of each word, as if each was to be cherished and savoured, to linger on.

Shinichi exhaled shakily. He could feel the beating of his own heart in his ears. “And the name?”

“The name?”

“Yes,” Shinichi sighed, impatient, “the name.”

“What have you done to earn it?” Kaito teased. He delighted in the spread of pink across the detective’s cheeks, stubbornly travelling further, down to his neck and, oh, how much lower – just imagine.

“KID.” The harsh sounds of that name in the magic of the night seemed softer, leaving Shinichi’s lips in a low purr. The plea was heard, and who was Kaito to leave his audience unsatisfied? Steadily, as if not to spook a wild animal, he raised himself over the table, stretching forward to position his mouth centimetres from the soft curve of Shinichi’s ear.

“I stole,” he began, and revelled both in the slight catch of Shinichi’s breath and the serendipity of it all, “’The Detective’s Heart.’”

The detective shuddered at Kaito’s words, and unconsciously tilted his neck towards him, stretching to be closer to the thief (the Thief, in all meanings of the word).

Kaito let himself drift backwards to his original place, leisurely, until his nose brushed Shinichi’s nose. Their back-and-forth dance across the train coffee table had come to this: both pushing forward, neither falling back, not anymore. Shinichi’s eyes were practically wild, dark and calculating and staring steadfastly straight back into Kaito’s. His eyelids seemed to flutter uncontrollably, dark pressing softly into pale white, over and over. Kaito was enraptured. His own eyes were heavy lidded, the weight of the humming tension between them an undeniably _real_ force upon him.

How on earth had he been tired earlier? How had he been, oh all right, _frightened_ of Shinichi’s shrewd gaze? How had he lived without this delicious pressure in his chest?

Moonlight bubbled through the glass separating their carriage from the rest of the world. Every so often they would pass a pocket of other lights – inconsequential light when compared to the glow of Shinichi’s skin and the fire of Kaito’s eyes – which would shift the shadows left and right, as if they, too, were dancing in anticipation. The abruptly decreasing speed of the train they rode went unnoticed by the pair as they breathed in tandem virtually _into_ each other’s mouths, quite content to simply exist in the same moment of eternity, bridging the gulf between them with each thought observed in the other’s intent look.

The air between them felt thick. The scent of jasmine and coffee was cloying, intoxicating. Each felt the pull towards the other like gravity, and Kaito could have sworn they were closing the final gap between them when –

“This is my stop,” Shinichi stuttered, jolted away from him with the abrupt stopping of the train.

Kaito blinked, mouth slack. “Oh,” he whispered. “I mean,” he coughed out inelegantly, “Of course it is. Mine’s the last, so.” He went silent.

Shinichi stared at Kaito blankly for a moment, before jumping out of his seat as if electrocuted. Shakily, he collected the strew of papers in front of him into one messy pile, which he shoved into a bag he pulled down from the luggage rack above, and shrugged on the jacket he had placed on the back of his seat. With his possessions, and his coffee, in hand, he was ready to get off the train. He shuffled awkwardly in place, however, and opened and closed his mouth, glancing at the platform through the window as if afraid it would disappear.

“Do you – “ he began, but was cut off by Kaito’s “Would you – “.

Both laughed, not a little uncomfortably. The interaction which had previously came so naturally now felt difficult, or at the least, more important. What they would say next had real weight, both knew.

Kaito exhaled softly. “You have my number. On your phone.” Shinichi seemed surprised. “I told you there was no other way to give you my number,” he added, with a crooked grin.

Shinichi smiled back tentatively, gazing again at the platform and tapping his fingers in rapid succession against his bag. “I’ll… call you, I guess?” he averted his eyes, flustered, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the proper formality for this is.”

“It’s…” Kaito struggled for a moment to find the best way to word it, “It’s just us. There is no ‘proper’ anything. Call me. It’s that simple.”

Shinichi looked back up to gape at Kaito once again, this time with a hint of disbelieving awe. He swallowed loudly, focus of his glance alternating between the thief and the platform like there was a decision to make.

“Go,” Kaito tilted his head towards the door, “It’s late, get some sleep, don’t stumble across any more dead bodies on your way home. I promise, someone else can solve those mysteries.”

Shinichi glared before taking a hesitant step backwards. Then he took another, and another, until he was picking up speed, and was at the open door, about to step out onto the platform when Kaito called out to him.

“I think you’ve earned a name.”

Shinichi didn’t turn around, but straightened in place, and tilted his head towards the carriage, where Kaito was still sitting, though he could not see him.

“Kaito. Kuroba Kaito.”

He heard, even from his seat, Shinichi’s shaky exhale. It vibrated about in his ear long after the detective stepped off the train, long after the train started up once again, and long after it carried him home.

The sound of Shinichi (a sound suspiciously like a promise) comforted him, and was a constant presence in the back of his mind as he wandered home through the dark streets of Ekoda late that night (or early that morning). The passion of his gaze gave him strength to creep past Aoko’s house, while the pale white of his skin leant him power to complete his (boring, easy, dull) homework.

Later, in bed with only a few hours of rest available to him before he would have to get up and walk to school with his best friend, the distinctive beep of his phone rang out through the silent room.

“Congratulations on stealing The Detective’s Heart. Goodnight,” the text from Shinichi read. It wasn’t much, but Kaito smiled, and held onto the cool plastic of his phone as he drifted off into sleep. Yeah, he thought, Lady Luck loved him, and he loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can come fangirl with me on [tumblr](https://melo-maniac.tumblr.com/) if you feel like it!
> 
> Please don't repost without my permission, which I promise I am likely to give anyway.


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